Open Wounds
by TheColdMachine
Summary: He sticks the knife in and leaves it there. Nathan, Rotti, angst, Mag.


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This was originally supposed to be—well, something else entirely. But I decided to spare my sanity and wrote this instead :D There are only slight hints of my original idea within. Be thankful (unless you happen to like Rotti/Nathan).

Also, reviews are nice ^^

(Note: The second chapter of Poster of a Girl is a bit of a follow-up to this)

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"You missed your first assignment." Rotti's hiss seeps out of the obscure shadows behind his desk. From where he stands, Nathan can barely see the man, and he doesn't respond. That annoys Rotti to no end, even if he doesn't mean to do it.

One of the drawers slides open, and Nathan still isn't looking. His eyes are tied to the floor, not interested. It's not quite apathy.

Rotti's moving, and he sees the glint of metal from the shadow, watches it stand up and follow the man as he moves to the front of the desk. Rotti has one hand hidden in shadows, and a thin package of paper in the other. Nathan's contract. The older man drops it on the desk and looks at him. The smile's unnerving. The eyes are worse.

"Shiloh's not fully well—"

"Excuses, Nathan!" He suddenly slams a knife into the desk. (So that's what he was hiding.) This gets Nathan's attention, and he fixes his eyes on the blade. Rotti jerks it out of the wood after a minute, stalking forward, speaking slowly. "This company is a machine. Input, and output. Gears and wheels. I only need a few parts for my machine to work." Despite being shorter, he's somehow looming over Nathan. He can feel Rotti's breath on his neck like fire. "Don't think you're not replaceable." Rotti punctuates this with a sudden shove. There's a sharp pain, and Nathan stumbles forward. It takes him a moment to realize there's a trickle of blood running down his side. Blood because Rotti's stabbed him. A trickle because he's left the knife in.

Bastard's in front of him now, smiling. Not a drop of blood on his hands. Eye-level with the desk now, Nathan can see the contract sitting there. Rotti notices and picks it up, chuckling softly. "You don't want to risk breaking this, Nathan." The way he says his name, it's like he's giving some friendly advice. "Not if Shiloh's ill."

"Stay away… stay away from her." He manages to straighten up, pull himself off his hands. Still, his voice sounds weak. A whisper.

Rotti puts the contract back on the table. Nathan closes his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Or invite it. Physical pain is different, and part of him wants to welcome it. A sadist like Rotti would just love that.

He can hear the click of expensive shoes. Behind him now. Rotti's breath, again. "What?"

Maybe he likes the pain, so he repeats himself. "Stay away from Shiloh."

Rotti indulges him, twisting the blade and dragging it out. "You don't give me orders, Wallace."

Back to formalities, Nathan notices. Then he falls forward again, forgets to catch himself.

Rotti's in front of him again. How'd he get there? Nathan looks up, half-smile, half something else scribbled on his face. The older man looks repulsed.

"You're pathetic."

Nathan really wants to agree, but he's concentrating on getting back to his knees. When he does, Rotti doesn't wait to beat him back down. He kicks hard for an old man. Nathan lands heavily on his back, and doesn't try to get up this time. Rotti drops a file next to him, explains: "Ewan Thomas. Coronary repossession scheduled for tomorrow." He doesn't have to elaborate further.

There's the sound of shuffling near the door and Rotti sneers at him before turning sharply and moving out of his field of vision. Nathan doesn't look after him, keeps looking up. The ceiling reminds him of the floor, only he's not bleeding onto the ceiling. That's probably a good thing.

Rotti's voice drifts back into the room, and then somebody else's. A familiar voice. Probably a good thing.

"Nate?"

Rolling his head a little, he manages to see her push by Rotti and stop suddenly as she sees him. It's only for a moment, though. She snaps out of it and hurries over. And just seeing her, reminds him of Marni. There's an uncomfortable jab of that other type of pain. The bad one. He tries to block her out, tries to block both of them out.

"Nathan?" Mag's never really been one to give up easily. Always so insistent.

Yesterday she'd proven as much.

"_Marni?" She'd asked._

"_Dead." One syllable. He'd admitted it. That was step one, wasn't it?_

"_Shiloh?"_

"_Dead." One lie._

"_Nathan?" Full name. That meant serious._

_So he hadn't lied._

"_Dead."_

Now she's turned on Rotti, asking him what he's done. Angry.

"He's lost everything!" Defending him. He doesn't deserve it, but she's there doing it anyways.

Mag says something else, and Rotti growls back roughly. She turns away from him, moving back to Nathan. He looks up at her. A familiar, friendly face. Then he feels emotions swell up, uncomfortable pain sticking into him.

"I—I killed her."

Good one, Nathan. Get her to hit you too.

_That would be nice_. And he hates himself for thinking it.

She doesn't, though. "It was an accident, Nate. She was sick—" Mag's struggling with her own ugly emotions. Little demons with pitch forks. Contagious.

There's a minute of silence. A full minute where they don't look at each other and don't say anything. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. She returns her gaze to him. Robot eyes. He can't meet her stare, but from the corner of his eyes, Nathan can see the sordid expression on Mag's face. She's sorry too.

Rotti's valets interrupt their group suffering. The sound of a shotgun barrel being clocked echoes in the small room, and they both look over sharply. Rotti looks at each of them, and Mag slowly stands up. She glances back at Nathan, who smiles weakly.

"'m fine."

She shakes her head a little, and he looks away. The valets step forward, and Mag has to go. He hears her leave, click click of heels. Then the heavier sound of Rotti. Come to kick him again?

Rotti doesn't. He stops just short of Nathan's head, and looks down at him. And the look makes him squirm a little. The pain's subsided, but he still feels shitty. Rotti's look isn't helping. But the man won't look away, and Nathan stares back for as long as he can. It doesn't last long.

Reaching out, he finds the folder Rotti left behind. Ewan Thomas. He slides it into his coat. Rotti nods.

"Good."

Then he turns and leaves.

Maybe if he stays here, Nathan wonders, he'll bleed out eventually. Maybe he'd be that lucky. Just stay here and wait—

"She wouldn't want this."

The voice in his head sounds a lot like Mag.

Nathan opens his eyes. She's back. She doesn't say anything else. He starts to say something, but Mag looks at him so he doesn't. She helps him stand. There's a small pool of blood on the ground, and he cringes at the sight of it.

"I didn't know monsters could bleed."

He can't read the expression on her face, and instead he examines the ground. She presses a button for the elevator. After a minute, she murmurs, "You're not a monster."

He only nods quietly. She doesn't say anything else, and in his head, he thanks her for it.


End file.
